


Soul Meets Body

by Starofwinter



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Widowed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 00:30:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11771691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starofwinter/pseuds/Starofwinter
Summary: "But if the silence takes you, then I hope it takes me too."They would have been married, he thinks, if the galaxy was a kinder place, and the war had ended before, or Anomaly had lived to see the far side of it.





	Soul Meets Body

**Author's Note:**

> Stick and Poke belong to the wonderful [Kristsune!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristsune/pseuds/kristsune)

“He died the way he would have wanted to,” someone - some fucking natural-born officer, what does  _ he _ care, he’s not  _ one of them _ \- says, and Killer clenches his jaw so tight it aches.

_ No _ , he wants to scream,  _ no he fucking didn’t! _  He and Anomaly had  _ talked _ about it, they were supposed to march away together, old and in their bed, married, with their kids beside them.   But his words die in his throat, because  _ what does it matter _ ?  What does any of this matter?  

Killer stands still for a moment, poised in the hushed space between the urge to bolt or to throw a punch, before he turns on his heel and strides out of the mess hall.  He can’t deal with this, not now.  Grief cuts off his breath and he makes it back to his bunk before his legs give out and he drops, keening.  

He knows death.  He’s held the hands of countless brothers as they marched away, but this… knowing Anomaly died  _ alone _ , in the black expanse of space - that no one had been there to help, or to make his death easier… that Killer can’t pick up his comm and see half a dozen messages about how obvious General Secura and Bly are being today… it  _ hurts _ .  It feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest every time he remembers.

General Skywalker had wrapped an arm around Killer’s shoulders and told him to take a few days - it’s all he can really afford - but he sort of wishes he hadn’t.  It would be  _ so much easier _ if he could bury himself in work and let everything else just  _ not matter  _ for a while, but he knows the grief would still be there, in his cold, lonely bunk, or the darkness of his comm, or the sympathetic eyes of his brothers.

* * *

Killer dreams, and it’s the only relief he gets sometimes.  He dreams about Anomaly cuddling with him, the blankets over their heads like they’re cadets again, giggling together.  They barely even talk in those dreams, but it’s beautiful and sweet and they’re  _ happy _ .  

He starts sleeping more and more, chasing those moments of joy, as fleeting as they are.  Why bother being awake anymore, when the galaxy feels so cold and gray and  _ so fucking empty _ ?  There’s nothing for him here.

Stick and Poke mean well, and he knows they love him, because they make sure to wake him up, make sure he gets to the medbay, make sure he takes time to eat…  He feels painfully guilty at the effort they put into making sure he survives, even if right now, he isn’t sure he wants to.  They hold him while he grieves, let him cry until he can’t breathe and keep him cuddled between them on their bunk, clean him up and get him water after, it’s too much.  They tell him it’s not, that they want to do this, they  _ want _ to help, but they shouldn’t have to.  

They don’t say anything when Killer curls up in his bunk with his comm, listening to the voice messages over and over again, reminding himself of what Anomaly’s voice sounded like.  It’s the only thing he has left anymore.  

_ “Hey beautiful - looks like we’re on Coruscant in a couple of days together.” _  Killer can  _ hear _ the smile in Anomaly’s voice, cheerful and eager.  It’s the one he never saw his boyfriend give anyone else.   _ “It’s been so long, I can’t stop thinking about how much I miss you.  I don’t have much time till they need me in the air, but I wanted to let you know I can’t wait to see you again.”  _   The message ends, and Killer closes his eyes, tears soaking his pillow as he silently cries himself to a restless sleep.

* * *

Killer doesn’t move on so much as he goes numb, when the grief finally fades into something that isn’t acceptance yet, but isn’t the agony of glass under his skin, shredding him from the inside out.  It aches, deep in his bones, on the bad days.  He’s…  _ functioning _ again, though it’s robotic, going through the motions while his heart isn’t in it.  Another step in grieving, he guesses, and tries not to feel like he’s betraying Anomaly.

He won’t love again, he knows that.  Not like he loved Anomaly.  He loves Stick and Poke, and sharing their bed is nice, but it’s not the same kind of love.  They would have been married, he thinks, if the galaxy was a kinder place, and the war had ended before, or Anomaly had lived to see the far side of it.  They’d talked about it a few times, what they would do, and Anomaly had  _ promised _ .  The day the war ended, he would ask Killer to marry him.  They’d take their earnings and find the far side of the galaxy, somewhere the war hadn’t touched, and they’d get married, and Killer would open up a little clinic, and Anomaly would be a local transport pilot.  They’d barely spend a day apart.  Maybe, Anomaly had whispered one night, they’d even find a kid or two to adopt.  Plenty of kids out there that needed a little love and care, and they could do that.  

It feels more comforting than painful now, remembering that.  Or  maybe that’s just the numbness talking.  Whatever it is, he treasures those memories and dreams, and he tucks them carefully away in a pretty box in his mind, and he says the Remembrance, and he recites Anomaly’s name, and he marches on, until he can catch up with the man he still loves with every part of his being.


End file.
